Is it Wrong?
by MinervaEvenstar
Summary: I'm sexy. And brilliant. I understand it all...except this. I love being near him, but however close I am isn't enough. I've never felt this way, though HE is different, so it makes sense I feel different about him. 'James, is it wrong that I want Moony'
1. We're Not Ever Speaking Again

Is it Wrong?

_Part 1/3_ **"We're never speaking again."**

I'm brilliant. I've always known better than to let my family stand in the way of what I want. I guess my contempt for them is why I can think of loads of clever ways to torture the prejudice Slytherins, and actually have the courage to do it. Then, I can charm my way out of being punished for it by the professors.

Speaking of the professors, I can pass all of their classes with high marks without even trying. James is also brilliant, so he can too. Remus gets higher marks than both of us, but he has to work very hard in order to do it.

Ah, Remus. The only thing in my life that I can't make sense of is how I feel about him. I love being near him. This would be okay if being near him didn't cause me so much pain. Am I an emotional masochist or something? The worst part is knowing why it hurts. If I didn't know I wouldn't feel confused; ignorance is bliss. Must be why Wormtail's so happy all of the time…Anyway, it hurts because however close I get to Remus isn't close enough. I mean that mentally and physically.

The desire for mental closeness comes from Remus being such a private person that it's nearly impossible for someone to know what he's thinking. Not that whatever he says to anyone is dishonest; he's too virtuous to lie. It's just that the way to figure out what he's thinking or feeling is by what he _doesn't_ say. The words aren't enough. I've got to interpret the tone he uses when he says them and how he stands and how his eyebrows move and the way his lips twitch. "Hello, Sirius" could mean five different things depending on how he says it. I usually prefer stuff that doesn't need to be analysed. That's probably why James is my best friend; he's so confident and blunt that I never worry if he has hidden motives or emotions. Why, then, do I enjoy analysing Remus and feel special knowing that I'm most likely the only one that can? I know I'd be jealous if somebody else could read him better, and Sirius Black does NOT get jealous.

Of course, Sirius Black does not feel understood either. Except with Remus. Don't get me wrong, James' mind works the same way mine does, and I tell him everything because I know I can trust him not to tell anyone or to judge me. But Remus…It's like Remus understands how my heart works. We've both suffered and are stereotyped to act in ways that totally clash with our personalities. Me because I'm a Black, and him because he's a werewolf. So, why don't I tell him everything I tell James? Well, I never feel like I have something to prove to James, yet I always want to impress Remus. Imagine that: Me, the pureblood rebel and one of the most popular boys in school, wanting to impress someone! I've never felt that way. Remus is a much better person than I am, so if he admired me I'd know I was a good person even though my family says otherwise. Remus is different; maybe it's only sensible and to be expected that I feel differently with him.

The physical intimacy I want…Well, that doesn't need explaining, does it? I want to touch every inch of him and to feel his chocolate-scented breath against my skin. I want to be the only one that he lets see him naked, not just without clothes, but without any of the walls of bland courtesy and mistrust that he builds around himself. The funny thing is, Remus isn't attractive, at least not in the way that most people are.

It isn't the way he looks that's appealing; it's how he carries himself with almost feminine grace and shows kindness one hundred percent of the time. After all, he has a tired face, calloused hands, prematurely greying hair, and a scrawny body. But that face always has a quiet smile for everyone, in spite of whatever problems he's having, since he doesn't want to bring down anyone's mood. Those hands hold goblets and quills with more careful elegance than any of my damned aristocratic relatives. That hair flows as smoothly as liquid out of its place from behind his ear whenever he's bent over a desk working diligently on homework and biting his quill thoughtfully. That small body easily fits itself between bookshelves in the library, and I know it would feel amazing to have it arching underneath me.

My desires are crystal clear. So, why am I confused? Simple. I don't know if my desires are wrong. Not 'wrong' as in 'mistaken' for I'm sure as bloody hell that I want him, but 'wrong' as in 'improper.' Not because Remus is a male or a werewolf. Neither of those worries me. If somebody as sensitive as him isn't gay I'll date Snivellus, and werewolves don't mate for life or anything, so I wouldn't be tying him down to me if - in a few years - he decided he didn't fancy me anymore. I wonder if wanting him is wrong because Remus is my friend. If he weren't my friend I wouldn't know how he'd react if he didn't feel the same way. But he is my friend, and I do know. He wouldn't stop being friends with me, but our relationship would never be the same since he'd feel guilty. Guilty! It would eat him away inside that he broke someone's heart by not returning his or her feelings. He'd never look me in the eyes again, thinking that he had no right to look at the individual he had hurt so badly. He wouldn't tell me anything personal because he'd believe he was cruelly sending mixed messages. If I told him and he didn't feel the same we'd both wind up miserable. That sort of risk is wrong, isn't it?

Pain shoots through my scalp. Tears sting my eyes, blurring the sight of the Great Hall around me. "Ow! Bugger!" I turn my head to glare at the offender that pulled my hair. "What was that for, Wormtail?"

He cringes. "Sorry, but I said your name about ten times and you didn't answer."

I massage my sore head, ignoring James' sniggering. "Well, what d'you want?"

"I was wondering what your opinion was." Peter smiles brightly. Sometimes, the bloke is infuriatingly cheerful.

"That I'm brilliant." Remember I was thinking that before? Yeah, I still think so.

"True," Peter agrees, eating some food from the huge pile he put on his plate, "but I meant about my question."

"Do you think I have any sodding clue what your question was?" Sure, I'm being rude, but the git deserves it for hurting my skull.

Accustomed to my temper, like all of the Marauders, Peter happily repeats his question, "Can vegetarians eat animal crackers?"

"You pulled me out of my thoughts for _that_?" I demand angrily.

"You shouldn't have done that," Remus tells Peter in a voice that's like a playful breeze through soft grass. "He doesn't have thoughts very often."

I look across the table and my eyes lock with Remus'. They're normally a calm light blue, but now he's being mischievous, so there is a touch of the green in them that forms whenever he pulls pranks with us. My heart skips a beat, yet I manage to smirk. "Are you mocking me, Mr. Moony?"

"Of course not," he answers in a tone that says 'of course.' "It's all in your head."

I raise a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't understand that phrase. _What_ is in my head?"

"Yours?" Remus pretends to seriously consider the question. "Diaphanous mist." What in the name of all that is Holy and Humourous does that mean? Sometimes Remus' vocabulary is sexy; sometimes it's annoying. Right now, it's both. Aware that I'll need an explanation since he knows me so well, he clarifies, "Fog."

I clutch my chest dramatically. "How dare you suggest my mind is full of the stuff that's in divination balls? I'll never forgive you. I'm going to formally draw up the divorce papers. You keep the Shack and I'll keep the pet." I try to put my arm around James, who's beside me, to indicate who the pet is. I'm maintaining eye contact with Remus as I do it, ergo I wind up slamming my elbow into James' face. Oops. At least Remus begins to chuckle as I hoped he would. "We're through. We're going our separate ways. We're not ever speaking again. We're -"

"Gonna be late for Quidditch practise," James interrupts, rubbing his bruised nose.

"He's right," pipes up Peter. If Remus can be considered the Official Dictionary, Peter is the Official Timekeeper.

James gets to his feet. "The captain has to be on time, so I'm heading out to the pitch. Coming?"

"Guess I've got to," I grumble. "Wouldn't want _the captain _to be cross with me." I push away my unfinished plate and walk beside James out of the Hall. My face is turned away from him as if I'm irritated that he made me leave my food.

He deduces I'm not, for he can read me as easily as Remus. He remarks, stepping onto the grounds, "We both know you weren't hungry."

There's no sense in denying it, so I change the subject. "You didn't say much at dinner."

"I said as much as usual. In fact, I mentioned a great idea I had for a prank involving Slughorn's toupee, McGonagall's knickers, and Filch's brooms." He gives me a sly sideways glance and a simper as we come to the door of the changing rooms. "You were just too busy daydreaming about Moony to notice." Before I can retort he enters the room where the rest of the team is waiting. Shocked, I stand completely still, barely registering when the Gryffindor athletes emerge wearing crimson and gold robes and carrying their brooms. James hands me my Silver Arrow and Beater's bat. He utters not a word, but is still beaming.

Without bothering to change my clothes, I follow the team onto the field and watch the balls zoom into the sky. Then, I take to the air. In the stands below Peter is gawking up at us with awe. I don't understand why flying impresses him so much. All I do is throw myself at the ground and miss. And, if I do fall, I know that the fall won't kill me; the sudden stop will.

My stomach squirms with delight when I see that Remus is with Peter. The studious werewolf never misses a Quidditch match, but sometimes he goes to the library to do homework instead of watching mere rehearsals. I pour the energy inside of me that I want to use to snog Remus senseless into hitting the Bludgers, and they go farther than usual.

**Minerva's Note:** This is a little 3-chapter fic that I wrote it ages ago and forgot to post. It's not one of my monumental works, but it's cute and it's FINISHED so no need to worry about not having regular updates! Great, yeah? You should do something for me in return... :pulls out hypnotizing pocket watch: You WILL review. By the way, since the story is humour I give the chapters deceptively angsty titles from a quote within that chapter. I'm just complex like that. Really, I am…Where was I? You WILL review! :laughs maniacally, drops watch, and runs off into the distance:


	2. Aside From Pain, What D'you Feel?

_Part 2/3 _**"Aside from pain, what d'you feel?"**

Two hours later we return to the ground and see Madam Hooch waiting for us. She tells James, "The Ravenclaws booked the pitch for all of next week."

A few of our teammates gasp, preparing to exclaim in outrage, however, James only shrugs. "They need the practise more than we do. We're excellent." The players close their mouths, appeased, and leave to put their everyday attire back on.

"You still ought to write it down so you remember." I jump at the sound of Remus beside me since I hadn't seen him and Peter approach. He hands James a parchment to scrawl the information on before turning to Madam Hooch. "Thanks for letting us know, Professor." Now, his voice is tranquil as still water.

"Anytime," she responds and heads back to the castle.

Peter asks James, who I guess is our group's leader in his mind, "Should we wait for you to get dressed and then the four of us go to the commons?"

James looks at me when he answers Peter. "I've got the feeling Sirius wants to talk to me about something. We'll see you both in a bit."

The pudgy boy seems hurt at being left out, yet Remus nods and says, "We'll anxiously be awaiting your return."

"Because Merlin knows that you can't live without me for long," I cheekily add.

"Yes," Remus agrees seriously. "That's why our divorce has been hard for me."

I'm about to banter back when Peter suggests to Remus sympathetically, "Wanna get some chocolate?"

"Indeed." Wiping an imaginary tear from his cheek, Remus strolls with Peter towards the Entrance Hall. I am not jealous that Remus is leaving with him. I refuse to be jealous of _Peter._

"How long?" I demand of James the instant that we're alone.

He leans casually against a goal post. "I caught on 'bout two months ago, but it's been going on longer than that, hasn't it?"

"I've been stopping myself from slamming him against walls and shagging his brains out for almost a year." Why sugarcoat the truth when I hate liars and he already knows? Besides, it feels good to finally say it out loud. I didn't realise how much it was bothering me to keep it inside. "James, is it wrong that I want Moony?"

James is uncharacteristically noiseless for a minute. I swear: a full minute! Sixty bloody seconds of silence! He must be getting ill or something. "Do you just want to sleep with him once in a while and keep acting like friends? Being friends-with-benefits is okay for some people, but it would be wrong to ask that of someone like Remus."

I smile at how protective James is of Remus. We know Remus can take care of himself without help and, despite that, we make sure he always has assistance. That's what friends do. "It's not like that. I'd tell you what it _is_ like, but even I don't know. Having the desire to be around him when he doesn't know that I desire to be around him makes being around him painful."

"Makes sense." Unsurprisingly, James makes more logic from my babble than I do. "Aside from pain, what d'you feel?"

Interesting inquiry. James is full of surprises. It reminds me of the incident when I found a ballerina tutu in his trunk and he insisted that he had no idea how it got there. "A wish to do two things at once. I wanna sit next to him while he reads for hours. You know, to drink in the sight and the smell of him, and watch that contented look form on his face that he gets whenever his books have a happy ending. Every day that I see that expression I'm able to sleep without dreaming about my dear old mum. At the same time, I want to do something much less quiet. I want to have his nimble Prefect fingers touch me and hear him cry out my name." Oops, that might be more information than he needed. Ah well, he doesn't appear perturbed. He rarely ever is.

"I decided." Decided what? Decided to forsake Quidditch and spend his time curing leprosy? "You love him," states James in a tone of certainty that few would dare to question.

I dare. "You sure? I thought that I might, although I couldn't tell 'cause I've never loved anyone before. I mean, I'd die for you and everything, but I mean that I've never felt romantic love."

"I know what you mean and, yes, I'm sure that what you're feeling is love." James wipes his glasses on his shirt to resemble a healer about to make a diagnosis. He places them back on the bridge of the nose that I elbowed earlier. "Love makes the world go round, Pads. A feeling like that could never be considered 'wrong.'"

"You sound like Dumbledore." These words might offend some, like Slytherins. In this case, James is aware that they're my way of showing gratitude. I've never been very good at thanking people.

Saying nothing, James strides to the changing rooms. I follow him and lock up our broomsticks, waiting for him to put his school uniform on. He does, and we leave without a word passing between us. I wonder if I should say anything when he asks, "So, when are you going to tell him?"

My footsteps falter and I almost stumble. Almost. Sirius Black is too fantastic to do something clumsy. "What?"

"When are you going to tell Moony how much you care about him?" repeats James with an exaggerated patience I know he does not feel. Remus is the only Marauder with any real patience.

"Never." I cross my arms defiantly across my chest and listen to my footfalls echo throughout the empty Entrance Hall. "You know he'll blame himself if he doesn't fancy me too. I won't risk Moony's happiness just because I might wind up getting something out of it."

"Is that selflessness I'm hearing from you?" James feigns disbelief.

He may be joking, but it rings true to me. I tend to do whatever I want without thinking of how it'll affect others. I don't want everybody to be upset; it's simply that contemplating consequences doesn't occur to me. The fact that I'm taking Remus' possible reaction into account proves to me, beyond any of my doubts, that I love him.

"Anyhow," James continues without me replying, "I know the feeling's mutual. The Moonster has been trying so hard to catch your attention lately I'm surprised even Pete can't see the sexy aura around him." A sexy aura? James is delusional; I haven't noticed Remus' sex appeal any more than normal.

"You did not," I ask slowly, "just call him _the Moonster_, did you?"

Blushing lightly and ignoring my inquiry, he gives what he must believe is a generous offer, "if you're nervous you can practise your love confessions on me."

My snort cues the staircase we're standing on to move. Thankfully, it's in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. "You can't be serious, Prongs?"

"Actually, you're Sirius." I grit my teeth. He knows how much I loathe that pun. _Sirius Black_. Why must I be named after two adjectives? "And 'course I mean it." He adopts his imitation of Remus, which I admit is pretty awful. "Hey, Padfoot."

This is a stupid idea, but I've learned that with someone as stubborn as James it's better to give in. "Hi, Moony. I've got something to say to you."

"What is it?"

"It's, er, not something you usually tell a mate."

"You can tell me anything." He deserves credit for keeping well to Remus' personality even though the vocals are horrible.

"Yeah, but this is really drastic."

"You dated McGonagall?" The Prefect once dared me to ask the stern professor out, and he loves to remind me of it. James is better at being Remus than I ever would've guessed.

"No." I give my friend the pseudo-dark look I tend to give my crush whenever he mentions it.

"You collect toenails?" He's getting carried away; Remus wouldn't say that.

"No." I make a disgusted face and ascend another set of steps.

"You've been harboring extraterrestrial fugitives?" Big words; the bookish werewolf might use that one.

"No." It sounds like fun, though.

"You're in love with me?"

"No." My palm connects with my forehead. "I mean, yes. You see, my mouth just got used to saying 'no,' but I meant to say 'yes' because the answer truly is 'yes' and…James, this isn't working."

The berk is laughing at me. "Sure, it is. That's how it'll go. You'll make an arse of yourself, yet manage to get your point across. Moony, in his Remus-y way of showing joy with his body composed and his eyes lit up, shall confess that he hath loved thee for years, and both of you will lose thy virginities by the morn." And he reverted to Shakespearean English _why?_ I'm supposed to be the master of theatrics around here! Probably because he was talking about Remus, and old-fashioned Muggle poetry comes to most people's minds when Remus is involved.

Personally, steamy showers come to my mind when Remus is involved. That or the library, for he looks beyond endearing when he's studying and - Merlin's Manhood, focus on the present, Padfoot!

"Asphodel," I mutter. It's the password; we enter to common room. Peter and Remus aren't there, so they must be in the dorm. On the boys' staircase I beg – No, Sirius Black doesn't beg. Well, maybe in dog form I do...Where was I? – "Prongs, let's forget about this."

"Hmm." James strokes his chin as if deep in thought. Then, grins. "Nah!"

I grasp his arm and say urgently, "Please, James."

"All right, you don't havta tell him." After I sigh with relief he adds, "I will."

**Minerva's Note:** I just love writing James' and Sirius' friendship! Anyway, the hypnotism seemed to be a success last time, so... :takes out trusty pocketwatch and swings it slowly back and forth: You WILL review. You WILL review. You WILL recycle. (What? I'm an environmentalist!) You WILL review.


	3. Naturally, we should go

_Part 3/3_** "Naturally, we should go."**

"You wouldn't!"

A black eyebrow rises above his thick glasses. "Wouldn't I?"

Our gazes meet steadily for several moments. I resignedly open the dorm door. "You would."

"Would what?" asks Peter.

Ignoring him, I tell James, "Fine, I'll do it."

"Do what?" Peter wonders.

"Wormtail," James says authoritatively, "come downstairs and play Chocolate Frog Cards with me."

He scratches his head. "Can't we play up here?"

"Without an audience?" The captain appears appalled.

"Sorry. Naturally, we should go." Peter grabs the box of cards the Marauders collect and share together and, trailing after James, closes the door.

"_That _was subtle," Remus notes, an ironic simper toying with the corners of the lips that I presume taste delicious. Maybe it's my own wishful thinking, but it seems that Remus' voice is as slow and sweet as flowing nectar when he speaks to me when we're alone. I guess it isn't too strange for people to have different voices when conversing with friends and addressing others one doesn't know well the way he does, however, to have a special voice just for a single person would mean something, right?

He puts a book he was reading on his bedside table that's covered with chocolate wrappers. Remus is propped up against red pillows causing tawny hair to spread around his head like a halo. He's got no clue how sensuous and tempting he looks. "What do you want to talk about that you couldn't talk about with Peter, too?"

"Punctuation?" I offer, sitting on the foot of his bed.

Remus is unconvinced, but plays along by doing a professor-like motion in steepling his fingers. "The misuse of a semicolon is -"

"Okay, enough." I grimace as if his teaching attempts wound my spirit. "I want to be straight with you."

"You can tell me anything." I almost laugh at the phrase of James-being-Remus coming from Remus' mouth.

"I know. I'm just…" I trail off. I'll confess that I'm gay and in love with my roommate and close mate, but I'm not admitting to being nervous. No way.

In a kind, coaxing tone, Remus guesses, "Nervous?"

Damn him and all his sexiness and compassion! "Maybe, but not a lot or anything. Just a little bit. Barely any at all, really." Very convincing, Padfoot.

"Don't be." His elegant, slim-fingered hand rests on my shoulder in what I hope is a more-than-friendly gesture. "I promise not to bite." He reevaluates this remark. "Well, unless it's a full moon…or if you ask me nicely." I nearly choke. Was he joking or flirting? I remember what James said about Remus feeling the same way and think that I could have a chance after all!

I might as well be direct. It's preferable to having James tell him. "I don't want to be straight with you."

Remus blinks; adorably confused. "I don't think I'm understanding you, Padfoot. Do you, or don't you, want to be honest with me? If you don't, I ought to tell you for future events that to deceive somebody it's better not to let them know you're being dishonest."

"No, that's not what I was getting at." My fists clench in frustration. James speculated correctly: I'm making an arse of myself. Suddenly, it hits me that I could be gripping something nicer and expressing my love without the confusion of words. I stretch my body across the bed. My hands are on either side of Remus' head and I'm hovering over his form.

"Sirius, what are you doing?" whispers Remus. His blue eyes have golden lights dancing in them. Gold represents the wolf. As far as I know the lupine half only shows itself when Remus is angry. Since he doesn't sound furious I can only assume he's experiencing another emotion, though supposing my life depended on it I wouldn't be able to figure out which one.

One of my hands lift and fingers thread through his hair. "I'm doing something I've wanted to do for a long time." Without further ado I lean down and kiss him. His lips are soft and, as I always suspected, he tastes like chocolate. He doesn't return my snog. In fact, he does not do anything. He's utterly still. Reluctantly, I remove my mouth from his lips and my digits from his locks. Now that the buss is over he regains the ability to move. His oxygen supply was cut off for less than ten seconds, yet he is gasping like he's run a mile and his entire body is trembling. "Moony, you all right?"

"As all right as someone who's been kissed by one of his best friends can be." He's trying to be as witty as he usually is. His words being breathless and shaky ruin the effect. He closes his eyes, which have become almost completely gold, and takes a few deep breathes to steady himself. He stares up at me and questions in a tone that's nearly as serene as his everyday self, "What was that about?"

"Actions don't speak louder than words with you," I sigh at the Marauder's Official Dictionary. "I love you. I don't know if you can call my love for you 'pure' since I want to do impure things to you, but, whether it's pure or not, it's genuine."

"Oh." Comprehension dawns on him. "You only meant straight as honest the first time. By saying 'I want to be straight with you. I don't want to be straight with you,' you intended to say, 'Truthfully, I want to have a homosexual relationship with you.' When I couldn't perceive that you kissed me."

"I know. I was here for all of that," I state impatiently. "Don't you have anything to say about any of this?"

Remus is silent for several heartbeats. "You were very forward, though that shouldn't surprise me."

"Forward? Is that all?" I have trouble speaking passed the lump that's forming in my throat. "It's okay if you don't love me as long as you promise not to feel guilty about it."

"Very forward," Remus repeats, his nectar voice low and tantalising. Green mixes with gold, a combination I've never previously seen in his eyes: mischief and that mysterious _something_. "I like that."

Does he mean…? Could he possibly…? Only one way to find out. "You're flushed and trapped beneath me. I like that."

He raises an eyebrow. More gracefully than James did before, I might add. "Trapped, am I?" Quick as lightening, he flips me and straddles my waist. He murmurs in my ear, "Don't forget who the alpha in the pack is, Sirius. Just because I love you doesn't mean I'll go easy on you. You'll have to work hard to get me to submit to you." Lust; that's what the gold is! Apparently, the wolf comes out when Remus is aroused. Who knew sweet, sensitive Moony had a dominant streak? In my fantasies about him I'm always on top, though it's so very hot to have the normally-reserved Prefect perched over me saying unexpectedly kinky things that I don't feel disappointed. At all.

"I don't mind working for things that I want." I wink suggestively and quip, "So, you love me, too? You're not just saying that to get me into your bed?"

"You're already in my bed." Remus rolls his orbs that are gaining back some of their blue, their humanness. "Of course I love you. I've loved you for -"

"Years?" I supply. When he nods I comment, "Let's not tell Prongs."

"Why not?" His beautiful, colour-changing eyes narrow. "You wouldn't want your closest friend to know you're involved with me?"

I reply quickly and honestly, "I want EVERYONE to know. Can't have anybody hitting on _my_ Moony! You ought to wear a sign that says 'property of Sirius Black.'"

"Not for all the money in the world." Remus is smiling again. This is more like it.

Now that he's cheerful I put my arm around him and pull him further on top of me. Since I've gotten permission to touch him I can't get enough of it. "How about all of the chocolate in the world?"

He snuggles into me, a tender display at odds with the domineering animal side from moments earlier. It's nice that he can be both. "If you can get me that much chocolate I'll consider it."

"I'll do my best as long as we don't let Prongs know he was right about your feelings. Although. if he was right about the last part that'd be good…Better than good…" Talking aloud to myself isn't the smartest idea around someone as astute as Remus. Not that I'll admit to making a mistake, of course.

"What was the last part?" Remus attempts to act suspicious, but it's obvious he's merely curious.

"Nothing!" I say in a tone that is _not_ far too loud. I can be tactful. Sort of. "Point is, we don't need him getting a bigger head then he's already got." Time to get the gold to return to his eyes. "Let's work on the size of your head instead."

Remus shows a mixture of disgust and amusement. "That's obnoxious. Is that your idea of romance?"

"Nope. This is." I lick the tip of my finger and wipe it on the front of his shirt. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes."

Remus bursts into laughter. I take a few seconds to appreciate how wonderful it is. Most people wouldn't find it either attractive or unattractive. They're idiots. They don't realise that, even though Remus smiles often, his laughter is rare and valuable. I do not simply love Remus; I value him also.

Once he calms down a list runs through my mind of the most effective ways to start snogging him. I'm extremely shocked and pleased when he kisses me. This is the first time he's willingly pressed against my lips and – call me dramatic – I think there ought to be clapping and fireworks and triumphant music. When he lets out a small moan I change my mind, for so much noise might've made it impossible for me to hear that sound.

Knowing that I can have such an effect on Remus, that he's happy and that it's me making him happy, makes me feel warm. No, I don't mean in temperature. My chest (My heart, to be technical.) feels warm. This is what it's like to be in love. Not that stupid, gooey, fuzzy thing that girls talk about that makes a person feel like they're dizzy or floating or something. No, love is simple, warm contentment. The kind of feeling you get from sitting in front of a gently crackling fireplace. The kind of feeling James was talking about. The kind of feeling that can never be wrong.

**Minerva's Note:** I usually make Sirius the dominant one in the relationship, so this scene was fun for me to write! Becuase this is the last chapter I know that you already want to review and I don't need to get my pocketwatch out...Right?


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